I'm going to start this post on a high note, because it's only going to cascade downhill from here. Even if I don't write a single post after today, I will have written more this year than I ever have in the history of my blog. I don't have any alcohol to toast with (Oh. I have those tiny bottles of Sutter Home, or whatever. Classy.), so I'll toast you with a pizza pretzel Combo instead. Mmmm.
Sometimes, I start to wonder if this whole racket was worth it. Leaving the day job, floating through six months of unemployment, only to crash hard with no end in sight. I wonder if I might not have been better off with the daily panic attacks and the flickery fluorescent lights and the promise of an occasional paycheck.
And... I hope one day that I will look back on these late night moments of doubt, dejectedly stuffing my face with processed cheese product and glorified wine coolers, and laugh at my lack of foresight. I do.
But in the moment, all I can think of is how I've utterly run out of ideas. I don't know what else to strip out of my lifestyle, what more I can cut back on, what else I can sell. All I can think of is how much of a burden I am on everyone I know. Kenneth. My parents. I'd be a burden on them regardless. Either they have to finance my idiot degenerate life here, or they have to put up with my being at home.
I don't want to sell my Japanese dolls. I paid too much for them, and the market's bottoming out, and I'd never get back what I paid. The majority of my clothes are still from undergrad, so I can't really sell any of them. I'm practically begging people to pay $50 or $100 for photos, and I haven't gotten one. single. bite. Not one.
I don't know what else to do.
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